I've been feeling rather inspired lately - perhaps it's the sunniness of the outside or anticipation of summer (or both). So I hammered this drabble out, and have decided to continue Recurring as an ongoing project where I can release all of my feelings upon and interpretations of the fantastic Blair Cornelia Waldorf.

I wrote this in an honest 30 minutes, unbeta-d, so don't be surprised to see any errors. (If you do, it would be lovely to point them out! :))

Drabble - 470 words.

Around 1.10.

Blair Waldorf


Wipe that goddamn smile off your face!

She stares at the LG screen, disheveled hair in her face, smiling- downright grinning - as she gets the text.

They're flirting by text – flirtexting- to keep the whole forbidden relationship, well, forbidden – and hot – 24 hours a day. The particular large-upturn-of-the-mouth-text was one that involved the Cotillion, as in attendance to the cotillion, as in with him.

She can't help but think of how his lecherous eyes would take her in upon entrance to the ballroom in her decadent off-cream gown, how they would battle the thick sexual tension between them on the elegant ballroom floor, what they would secretly do (what he would show her) afterward. The forbidden tryst has done this to her, she thinks- she has become a whining teenage romantic novel addict, but in her world of mystery and secrecy, she doesn't care (not too much).

A wave of sound enters her senses and her gaze shifts to an awaiting Nate, getting suited up for a Cotillion. Their Cotillion- and it all comes crashing back;

As soon as she looks up, the fantasy of blissful unreality is over; she's back in the real world, looking over to a confused (as always) Nate who, by the looks of his upturned mouth, had just asked her a question and was waiting for a response. She doesn't even perceive that Nate is looking his entire charmingly handsome self, tan tuxedo in place, eyes especially blue- only because she is currently swirling in a dark and murky pool of passion and mystery that is fading because of the blue-eyed demon and making her act a moody bitch to this interrupter.

She can't help the way she feels right now – she's lighter, happier, and doesn't even care that her SAT scores were lower than previously anticipated (2290 – she was aiming for a 2400).

The world is suddenly filled with light in a dark and dreary November, and she couldn't be more pleased. She secretly wants to scream into a pillow, to tell Serena, to release it all (à la Jo from Funny Face) – but it would defeat the purpose.

Of secrecy, that is.

Because she does not need a release to figure out what the feeling is- certainly not, it's merely teenage lust; but she can't help but imagine how she would prattle to Serena about the heat of the relationship over fat-free Pinkberry, simply waiting for the two of them to begin the squealing...

And realization comes again as she does it again- Blair Waldorf is stuck in her world of lusty fantasy as she struts past a gaping Nate, next location certainly in mind and in body.

Perhaps caring and stopping for such a feeling will be of importance later in her years as an adult socialist; but, as of the moment in her seventeen-year processing, Blair Waldorf feels free, uninhibited, and she simply feels like raising a smile to the entire world.